


The End of Al-Rassan

by kristin



Category: Guy Gavriel Kay - The Lions of Al-Rassan
Genre: Character of Color, Gen, Yuletide, challenge:Yuletide 2007, recipient:Lara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-25
Updated: 2007-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-15 06:18:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/157880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kristin/pseuds/kristin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Ammar. I was hoping to find you," Roderigo said quietly. "Have you a moment to speak?" He spoke in Esperanan.</p><p>"With you, always," ibn Khairan said gravely, in the same tongue.</p><p>"The King of Valledo has done me the honor of asking me to be his constable."</p><p>Jehane looked over at him. Ammar inclined his head. "He is equally honored if you have accepted."</p><p>"I have."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End of Al-Rassan

*****  


In that moment Ammar ibn Khairan looked at Jehane, whose eyes had been tracking the conversation with bright curiosity. Though he honored himself by seeing love when she glanced at him, her affection did not waver when her gaze switched to this man beside him, the man who was a friend. The poet in him marveled at this love. The strategist in him felt the eyes of a king, a soldier and a wife besides. "I assume you wish to discuss an offer with me. Before you do I request a measure of privacy."

The words, aimed a king, though mouthed to his constable, had their desired affect. Ramiro of Vallenda nodded. He did not, Ammar realized, know who he was looking at. It was becoming a trend among kings to n ot recognize him. He thought briefly of a new trademark. Roderigo raised an eyebrow and an arm to guide Ammar in the direction the Captain had come from, where he had just pledged his allegiance to his king and become the constable.

After they had come some distance Ammar looked at Roderigo and began pleasantly, "I have now had the honor of meeting your lovely wife. She is very beautiful." The Captain acknowledged this with a quirk upwards of his lips. "I believe she would be distressed to see you die in the battles to come."

"I fear the only way Miranda wants me to fall is by her hand. She stabbed me with an arrow the last time we met." The smile remained on his face.

"It would distress Jehane if you were to die by my hand. With all respect to your wife, this concerns me more." Ammar focused his attention fully on Roderigo. In some ways it was too easy to follow his thoughts, not due to physical hints, but as they lined so clearly with Ammar's own. Roderigo lifted his shoulders, tilting his head to center his gaze back where their women were.

"Ammar, the armies will be moving south. My king assures me this is a war for territory, not a Jaddite holy war." Ibn Khairan felt an anger rising at those words.

He thought of Al-Rassan and a long ago courtyard. He thought of lions and the desert wind. He shook his head. "You try to change the subject my friend." He kept his voice quiet. In deference to the anger he felt he slipped back into his Asharic.

"You do not intend to take my offer then." Roderigo's voice was flat and without question. "I need you with me to keep a bit of the gardens alive when the lions fall. My heart is not set on a slaughter."

"Ah," said Ammar in his most sardonic voice, "a gentle conquest. Horsemen of Jad waving to happy Asharite farmers as they trot by." He felt his heart twist. He thought of the Kindath and his lions felled. He watched Roderigo turn his head towards his king, barely visible over the distance. Ramiro appeared to be gazing back at them, trying to gauge the subject of their converstaion from afar. They did not give him much to read in either in expression or demeanor. "You have not yet made me an offer."

"I would offer you certain offices in Al-Rassan and ultimately the rank of constable of Valledo, shared with myself." It was a generous offer. Ammar acknowledged that with a nod. "You said earlier you did not want Jehane to see me die by your hand. Though they could still lose us to war, if you joined me our women would not have to see that come about." He paused before continuing, "But I do not think you intend to take that path with me."

Ammar tried to imbue those words, willed the synergy between them to guide the Captain. "I'm the man that killed the last kalif of Al-Rassan." He had done that deed for Almalik, he had done that for Cartada, for Al-Rassan. He would not abandon them, even Almalik whom he had poisoned with a slave's towel. He was a lion of the desert.

"We refused to fight in Ragosa. You fear to see me fall at your hand." Roderigo sat down in the grass where he had recently kneeled. "If you go back now that may come to pass." He left the silence linger for a moment before adding, "they will make you ka'id of the armies." They both knew the warrior traditions.

Ammar joined him on the ground. "There is a way to avoid that fate. It requires mercy for a man who does not give any."

*****

A little less than two year later two women stood on a hilltop near the ruins of Silvenes. The forces of Ashar and Jad had finally come together after a summer and autumn and then a spring siege and skirmish, bracketing a harsh winter with its enforced inactivity. A great many people died that winter. The cities of Lonza, Ronizza and Ardeno had all fallen to the Jaddites as snow fell far south of its usual range. They had been taken by Roderigo Belmonte.

The battle now came to ruined Silvenes. It was there that the battle for Al-Rassan fell, with the dessert forces of Yazir ibn Q'arif took their stand. Thinking of his brother, Yazir sent for the representative of King Ramiro, to whom he gave a message that could not be refused. With the challenge extended there was honor at stake.

Up on the hill, Miranda Belmonte d'Alveda stood with the representative of her husband's challenger. They looked down at the battlefield where the two armies' leaders would battle each other in the ancient tradition, bringing forth the blessing of the winning God.

"Will there ever be a time when it is not a curse to be born a woman?" Miranda said without turning her head. "What more can I do than stand by and see if my husband dies?"

Ever the poet, Ammar ibn Khairan replied with a soothing lull of words that meant nothing, mere pleasantries. He accepted the scoff he received in return, expecting no less from her. He tried again. "It is unlikely that will happen. Roderigo has already battled back Ghalib once. He only survived to lead by the Captain's mercy. It quite angered him. This battle is one of pride as well as tradition." He stopped there as the sun sank. The men below, almost invisible in the dusky light, began to fight.

He turned his back to the battle. Jehane, beloved and loving, who had remained silent, took his place by Miranda's side. He watched them, those women, women who meant so much and stood so strong. He did not need to see the battle, watching those faces. He could see the course of it reflected in their features. His own face he kept set in a mask of banal neutrality. In truth neutrality seemed seemed a fair appraisal of his stance.

Jehane has said nothing, but he knew her support was pledged to Roderigo. All of them here gathered on the hill were. There was Alvar, strong and proud in the herald's garb. Standing by him was Husari, Husari who had changed so much from the indolent merchant of Fezna. He had returned as a Jaddite vassal, ruling from the castle where he once been summonded to die.

No one looked at him, ensnared as they were by the battle below, as he started laughing to himself. Really, this whole war could be blamed on Husari's kidney stones, setting off these preposterous happenings. He fought the urge to ask after the stones, to ask the former silk merchant to make note of when he next had an attack in case it changed the world again. He saw smiles begin to appear on the faces around. He still did not look to the field. Roderigo was persevering.

When he heard the cheering Amman ibn Khairan, the man who had killed the last kalif of Al-Rassan, who had advised kings and killed kings, began to weep for Al-Rassan; whose jewels were now scattered among the Jaddites, whose turst he had betrayed. He had not wanted to kill a friend, or, he admitted to himself, die on one's hand. He has known if Ghalib was alive it was he who would face Rodrigo on the field. He had told this to Belmonte the night he returned to Cartada. For this and for what he must do now he wept.

There were clouds in the sky, obscuring both his tears and the stars. There was no light left for Al-Rassan.

*****

Nearly twenty years later, when Esperna belonged entirely King Ramiro the Great, a poem of Ammar ibn Khairan was carved on a statue erected of Roderigo Belmonte. The men themselves laughed at stern countenance that glared down at the royal chapel. Ibn Khairan, who all those years surrendered himself over to Miranda Belmonte d'Alveda, prisoner in name only since then, made light of the differences between the two visages. Miranda and Jehane were lewder in the features they chose to compare.


End file.
